


Get Golden

by BeautyInChains



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Desperation, Idiots in Love, Kink Exploration, M/M, Masturbation, Omorashi, Teasing, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyInChains/pseuds/BeautyInChains
Summary: Billy's almost been lulled back into the monotony of the lesson when something wet brushes his fingers. Steve's smirking now, water bottle swaying loosely in his grip. There are maybe a few sips left. It could be an offering, Billy thinks as he swallows dryly.Or a promise.





	Get Golden

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been wanting to do a sequel to Can't Fight This Feeling for ages, but it wasn't until recently that I was inspired. I really enjoyed fielding the taboo of watersports; the desire and shame and desperation. This fic is definitely um, wetter than the last. I understand that this is not everyone's cup of tea, so I will preface this fic by saying there is NO piss drinking, and all play occurs from the neck down. 
> 
> Title has been borrowed from Parade of Lights' Golden (and boy am I sorry about it, haha).
> 
> As always: unbeta'd, comments/kudos/con-crit most welcome!

It becomes a bit problematic, after that first night.

Billy knows there's no going back, not now that Steve knows. Now that Steve's let him. Liked it, even. Now that Billy can't stop thinking about it. About the way Steve's cheeks go pink, about the way he squirms. About the way he presses his thighs together and squeezes; anything to distract himself from the sweet, throbbing torture of it. And the expression on his face when he finally lets go? Billy swallows hard as he shifts in his seat.

It's hot and humid in sixth period Biology, and the sunlight streaming through the windows is nearly blinding. Billy feels the heat all over, clothing sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He rolls his pencil between his fingertips as he watches a bead of sweat roll down the back of Steve's neck where he's sat one row up and one over. There's a small puddle on Steve's desk beneath his water bottle where the condensation's dribbled and pooled. The bottle's almost empty.

"Fuck," Billy murmurs under his breath.

"Something to share with the class, Hargrove?"

There's some snickering around him as Mr. Lebowitz pauses, chalk hovering above the blackboard as he levels Billy with a look. And normally Billy would lean back in his chair, kick his feet up, and grin while giving some real smart-ass sort of reply. Except Steve's looking back at him, brows furrowed a bit curiously, smile playing at his lips like maybe he _knows_.

"No," Billy croaks, clears his throat and tries again, "No, Sir."

Billy's almost been lulled back into the monotony of the lesson when something wet brushes his fingers. Steve's smirking now, water bottle swaying loosely in his grip. There are maybe a few sips left. It could be an offering, Billy thinks as he swallows dryly.

Or a promise.

Billy takes it, feels something warm settle in his gut at the sight of Steve's wet, glistening fingertips. Billy brings the bottle to his lips, pressing right over where he knows Steve's have been and pulls long enough to drain the bottle. Steve watches the entire time.

Billy spends the rest of class waiting for some sort of tell. Anything to let him know that he's on the right track, that he's not crazy. It isn't until about three minutes before the bell that Billy sees it, the slow deliberate squeeze of Steve's thighs together. Every second that follows feels like an eternity. Billy's up before the bell's even done ringing, hip slamming into Steve's shoulder as he passes him.

"Let's go," he says, leaving no room for argument. Billy can hear Steve hiss and he's not sure if it's because Billy's blow jostled his bladder or because of the double entendre. It doesn't matter. Billy's cock is swelling in his jeans, breathing labored by the time they reach the Camaro.

"My parent's are out of town," Steve says.

Billy growls as they go screaming out of the parking lot.

"Really got to you, huh?" Steve says, voice low, scenery a blur. When Billy doesn't say anything Steve makes a show of spreading his legs, knees falling open, hand cupping between his legs. "Don't you want to know how many I've had?"

"Tell me."

"Twelve."

Billy's ears burn as he does the math. "Jesus, Steve."

"'m so fucking full, it hurts," he says, fingers playing over his lower belly, distended, the waistband of his jeans cutting almost painfully into his skin. And yeah, Steve's not looking as cut as he normally does, body gone almost soft with the water it's retaining. "Gotta piss so bad."

"You do this for me?"

Steve hums thoughtfully, "Yes and no. Did it 'cause I wanted to, _fuck_."

"You gonna piss yourself?"

"Do you want me to?"

And _Christ_ , Billy's never imagined in his wildest dreams that that'd be a question he'd have to field. Billy reaches over, fingers pressing briefly beneath the button of Steve's jeans, kneading. Steve winces, swears, knees drawing back up and together as a spurt hisses into the fabric. Billy waits another beat, two. "Stop," he says even as he thumbs as the little wet patch. And Steve does, brows pinched together, whine caught in his throat.

Steve's so desperate by the time they make it to his place, he can barely make it out of the car. Billy keeps a safe following distance, daylight and all, despite the fact his body is aching with it, cock lodged painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Steve sags into his arms the moment the door closes behind them. Billy noses into Steve's neck with a moan, hands curling around his hips as he presses his cock against Steve's ass.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's been - _ah_ \- desperate."

"God, you're such a fuckin' tease. Thought I was gonna blow my load in Bio just thinkin' about it."

"You're too fucking easy."

"You make me fuckin' easy," Billy says, pawing at Steve, hand splaying low over his belly. Pressing. Steve's hard too, can't help it. "Ah fuck. C'mon, upstairs."

"Billy-"

"You can hold it, baby. I know you can." Billy follows Steve up the stairs, reveling in the slow, stilted desperation of his gait. Billy knows he sounds like he's run a marathon, panting harshly behind Steve, chest heaving with desire. Billy can hardly believe that Steve is letting him have this. That Steve is giving it to him, so freely. The validation that Billy's not sick, that he's not wrong has his blood singing in his veins. Steve sways at the top of the stairs and Billy catches him around the waist.

"Bathroom," Billy says. Steve lets out a shuddering sigh as he goes.

Steve gasps as Billy pushes Steve up against the counter, the marble digging painfully into his back as Billy rucks up Steve's t-shirt, tugs it up and over his head. "Jesus, look at you," Billy murmurs, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Steve's jeans, just barely. There are angry red lines where the fabric's been cutting into him and Steve moans when Billy pops the button open on his jeans, tugs the zipper down. Steve's hand slips down between them, gripping himself as he whines. Billy presses a kiss to Steve's jaw before giving him a gentle shove,

"Get in the tub, Harrington."

Steve pauses, lips working soundlessly as Billy undresses, clothes rapidly crumpling to the ground. He's gorgeous, miles of golden skin and thick muscle, cock hard and swaying before him, already wet at the tip. "Billy, I really gotta-"

"I know," Billy says slowly, meaningfully, baby blues boring into Steve's wide eyes. He says I know, but he means _yes_ and _please_ and _I want you to_.

"Okay," Steve replies with a confidence previously unclear, and then he's moving, swinging one foot over into the tub and then the other.

Billy shivers at the hollow, almost ringing sound of Steve's weight hitting the porcelain. Steve's squirming in that delicious way he does when he's feeling really desperate. Billy makes his way carefully into the tub, sinking to his knees and sitting back on his haunches. The tub is hard and unforgiving and he can feel the discomfort in his bones, but it seems a small price to pay for something he wants to badly.

"We're doing this," Steve says, and it's not a question as he shifts his weight back and forth from foot to foot. Billy nods up at his, fingers tapping anxiously against his knees. "What do you-I mean, _where_ do you..." Steve bites at his bottom lip, uncertain but patient.

Billy swallows hard. He's given it some thought before now, on more than one occasion, but the possibility has never been so real, so literally within reach. His heart hammers against his ribs, pounds in his ears. "Uh, I was thinking here?" he says, fingers brushing across his pectorals, nipples already tightened up between the cold and the anticipation. "And here," Billy continues, fingers trailing along his trembling belly, and lower. "And here," he says finally, dragging a finger along the length of his cock.

Steve's nodding, easing his jeans over his hips enough that he can get to his cock. It's still a little hard, thick in his fist, but it doesn't really look like he'll have any trouble going, not when he's so far gone. There's a long, almost excruciating moment of silence before Steve gasps and the first spurt hits Billy below the sternum. It's so hot, hotter than Billy thought it would be, hotter even than the time Steve soaked his jeans for him. It runs down his abdomimals in golden rivulets that feel like liquid fire.

"Steve, _fuck_ ," Billy whines and Steve aims a little lower, the force and heat of it leaving him breathless. He wraps an almost careless hand around his cock and it surges in his grip, aching for release. Steve is still pissing, head tipped back, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones, lips parted. "Lower, please," Billy manages to growl out. Steve hisses, complies, and Billy moans as it hits the head of his cock and washes over the length of him.

The sweet relief written across Steve's features paired with this debaucherous act of possession have Billy winding up tight; muscles bunching, jaw dropping, cock swelling impossibly before he's spurting over his fist with a wounded, animalistic sound that echoes off the tile. Steve's eyes round on him, dark and wide and pleased as Billy's come hits his toes and runs down his own wrist. Billy's still shaking with it as Steve's stream slows to a stop.

Billy can't be certain how long the entire act had taken, seconds or minutes, but it feels as though he's been suspended in time; in this moment, in this room. He blinks up at Steve, whose cock has filled out fully and is swaying heavily so close to Billy's pant-parted lips. Steve wraps one hand around his cock, the other coming up to fist in the back of Billy's hair. Billy gasps as Steve jerks his head back sharply. "I can't wait. I'm sorry," he says as he begins stroking himself in earnest; hard and fast and without abandon.

Billy looks up at him from beneath those long, thick lashes, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. Steve's cock is shiny-slick with precome, fist a blur in his haste. It won't be long. Billy knows the signs. The way Steve's jaw drops and works around helpless little moans. The way Steve's hips begin hitching into his fist. The way his toes begin to curl. The way Steve's fingers tighten in Billy's hair. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," Steve spits out. Billy opens his mouth obediently, tongue extending like a target.

" _Jesus_ ," rings reverently in Billy's ears as the first spurt hits his tongue, hot and bitter. Then another and another. Steve's aim has always been impeccable and Billy is thankful for it as his mouth waters. He rears up onto his knees and feels Steve's grip in his hair give enough that Billy can take his cock all the way down, nosing into the soft skin of his belly as Steve's cock pulses against the back of his throat. Billy milks him for all he's worth, until Steve is hissing and jerking Billy back once again by his hair. Billy swallows and pants, pressing his forehead into Steve's hip as Steve strokes through his curls.

"You good?" Steve asks softly.

"So good," Billy croaks, " _Fuck_."

"You're filthy," Steve teases.

Billy snorts against Steve's skin, shivers, "And whose fault is that?"

"You're welcome," comes the reply, without bite. Billy can read between the lines. _It's okay, we're okay, I liked it too_. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to Steve's hipbone.

"Thank you."

"C'mon," Steve says, hands falling to Billy's shoulders as he tips his head toward the faucet handle, "Let's get cleaned up."

Billy looks up at him, raises a brow, "You gonna take these off first?" he asks, flicking at Steve's jeans. Steve lips twist upwards as he shrugs.

"I dunno. I thought maybe you could do it for me? Since you're down there already."

"Oh my God, shut up."

"Why don't you come up here and shut me up?"

"Now that right there's just about the best idea you've had all day," Billy says, easing up off his aching knees.

Anything else Steve may have said is lost on Billy's tongue as their lips meet. 


End file.
